Just Think About the Gin
by more-than-words
Summary: Bankers, terrorists, dancing, gin and the Home Office Christmas party - just an ordinary night out for our favourite spies.
1. Chapter 1

**I like Christmas. It's a good excuse for writing ridiculous fics that are only tenuously linked to the festive season and have plots that exist purely to facilitate dancing and gin. S9 team, not to be taken seriously in any way. Stender and Jones is not a real bank and Mike Sherborne is not a real MP. Hope you enjoy :) **

**As is tradition on **_**Spooks**_**, we start with some overly lengthy exposition…**

* * *

><p>"What are you doing tonight?"<p>

Ruth startled slightly at Harry's abrupt question. What was she doing tonight? Why was he asking? Usually he only asked about her evening plans when he needed her to work late, but the look on his face was slightly sheepish, as though he were embarrassed to be asking, which suggested it might not be about work – or he might have done something and needed her help to dig him out of some professional hole pronto, which certainly wasn't out of the question.

Then again, it was only a few days until Christmas. Maybe he was planning to ask her to do something festive. She had a vague recollection that there was some sort of event later… Not that he had much reason to ask her to anything, of course, since their relationship was officially 'strictly professional' these days – mostly because of her – but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. She didn't think she'd mind that much if that was his plan, which annoyed her a bit. She was finding the whole 'stick to work' thing harder than ever now that the personal stuff was off limits following the Great Proposal Debacle.

"Ruth?"

She realised he was waiting for her to answer. "Um, I'm not sure." That was a slight lie. She had big and important plans that night; plans that mainly revolved around wine and her sofa, as most of the best plans did. But she thought it might sound a bit sad if she were to voice that to Harry, so sticking to vagueness seemed wise, at least until she knew what he wanted. "Why?"

He opened his mouth as though going to reply, but right at that moment, Dimitri burst onto the Grid, waving a short stack of papers. "Later," Harry said. "Now, we need to have a meeting."

* * *

><p>And so it was that two minutes later, Ruth found herself in her customary briefing room seat with the sneaking suspicion her plans were about to be spectacularly ruined. Dimitri, Beth and Tariq sat clustered towards one end of the table. Lucas, as was so often the case these days, was conspicuous by his absence.<p>

"I realise this is short notice, but we need to pull off an operation tonight," Harry announced from his position at the head of the table.

Ruth felt her spirits sink as her quiet dream of an evening spent with a large glass of chilled white and a blanket on the sofa seemed further and further away by the second.

"Dimitri," Harry went on. "Explain."

Dimitri tapped a few keys on the laptop in front of him and an image of a man appeared on the projector screen. "This is Steven Glass. Banker – in all senses of the word. Especially the rude ones. He's head of Stender and Jones, an investment bank in the City."

The name rang a bell with Ruth. "The one that made a killing from the property crash?"

"The one and the same. Like I said – banker. Anyway, latest intelligence suggests that the bank is involved in some dodgier dealings than simply making money off other people's misfortune."

"This intelligence comes from where?"

"Whistleblower in the firm. Codename Charlatan." Dimitri clicked a few buttons a picture of a young woman appeared on the screen. "She has the job of auditing some of the bank's major accounts, although according to her, it's often more like cooking the books to suit the picture the partners want to portray. She got suspicious about one account that had no information attached to it – just an account number and unexplained deposits and withdrawals. She raised it with the management and was told it was a contingency fund before getting taken off the account. Anyway, she was suspicious so she did a bit of quiet digging. The staff all get Stender bank accounts as a 'perk' of the job and she audits those too. Charlatan found some suspicious payments entering Mr Glass's account, which link up with some of the withdrawals from the anonymous account. He'd allegedly tried to cover his tracks, but he's not very technically-minded. Charlatan said he'd might a right hash of it."

"So is he diddling the bank or is someone paying him hush money?" Beth asked.

"Definitely the latter, quite possibly both." Dimitri paused to push some folders to everyone around the table. "After she found the payments, Charlatan went to the police and they passed her on to us. I've been running her as an asset for a couple of months. A bit of investigation suggests that the anonymous account is linked to one of the groups on our permanent watch-list." He clicked another button and the profile of a known terrorist organisation popped up on the screen.

"Paid by terrorists? Steven Glass is properly in the shit." Beth almost sounded quite impressed.

"Yeah. He's also inconveniently well-respected in the City and in Whitehall. And Charlatan's had a look at his diary for me. He's got a meeting with the anonymous account holders tonight. Something's going on and I want to know what."

"So what's the plan? We bug the meeting?"

"Can't. Don't know where it's going to be. We're bugging _him_."

Ruth was suddenly aware of Harry watching her. She turned to look at him to find him with a rather odd expression on his face. He looked… not quite guilty, but definitely in the vicinity. A sense of unease took up residence in her stomach.

"Luckily we know where Glass is going to be earlier in the evening," Harry said.

Her brain racing seven steps ahead as always, Ruth was already pretty sure she knew where this was going.

"Right," Dimitri went on, clearly enjoying his little session in the limelight. "Tonight is the Home Office Christmas party. Harry's going, and so is Steven Glass. He went to school with a junior Home Office minister, Mike Sherborne. That's how he got invited."

Beth did love a scandal. "That's brilliant."

"A brilliant mess, I think, Miss Bailey," Harry said. "Glass's relationship with Sherborne is the reason this needs to be done on the quiet – and done fast, so we can resolve whatever needs to be resolved." He turned to Ruth.

The last little bit of hope of an early night she'd been holding onto vanished completely.

"Ruth, I need you to come with me to the Christmas party."

She didn't want to ask, but she couldn't stop herself. "Why?"

"We need to bug Mr Glass and in order to do that we need to get close to him. I don't think he'd be especially willing to dance with me, do you?"

_Kill me._ "Couldn't you take Beth?"

Beth was looking torn between going out on a mission and the distaste of attending an event as Harry's plus one.

Harry put paid to that idea. "No. It will look more believable if you're my guest."

There was a moment's heavy pause as their colleagues hid knowing smirks and pretended they didn't know precisely why Ruth would be believed as Harry's date.

Arguing would only make it worse. "Right."

"Don't worry, Ruth," Dimitri said. "All you have to do is get the bug onto him and you're done. You can just enjoy the party. Beth and I will sort out watching the meeting later."

"We need to leave at seven," Harry told Ruth. Then he turned to their colleagues. "We're done. Make this happen."

As the others filed out of the room, Harry stopped Ruth with a hand on her arm.

"Well, now I know why you wanted to know what I was doing this evening."

"It'll be fine," he said, ignoring her acerbic tone. "Easy as anything. We're just the messengers tonight. The kids are doing the hard bit." He leaned closer. "Plus there's a free bar. We'll dress smartly, go to the party, mingle for a bit, plant the bug and then make liberal use of the complimentary gin, yes?"

"If we must."

"We must."

-0-

Ruth wandered back onto the Grid wondering where she was going to find time to locate an outfit for this evening, and half-heartedly reading the briefing folder Dimitri had given her.

"Looking forward to it, Evershed?"

She stopped by Dimitri's desk and gave him a glare in response.

"At least there'll be booze."

"Do you have the bug?"

"It'll be sorted before you go."

She nodded and turned to go back to her desk, returning her attention to the briefing notes. "Wait." She stopped and held up the papers. "Is this man really six foot seven?"

Dimitri laughed. "Yeah. At least you won't be able to miss him."

"So he's a… massive banker."

"Rich, too. They say that, don't they? Tall people tend to be more successful than short people."

Not being the tallest of people, that wasn't the news Ruth wanted to hear, although if it turned out to be true it might explain a couple of things. "Oh God, don't depress me even more. It's Christmas."

"Just think of the gin."

"I am."

* * *

><p><strong>Cheers for reading! Two more chapters to go, I think (if you want them, that is!). Next time: alcohol, dancing, and a very tall banker.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the lovely reviews :)**

**After the exposition comes the vaguely-plotty-mostly-fluffy bit…**

* * *

><p>At ten to seven, Ruth stood in the ladies' toilets, staring at her reflection in the mirror. In the end, she'd been too busy with observations and paperwork all day to sort out her outfit for the Home Office Christmas party, and so she'd resorted to desperate measures.<p>

From time to time, she was asked as a Senior Analyst to provide mentoring to the new graduate recruits – and the hours of guiding newbies through the basics of working for the Security Services had finally paid off. She'd had a quiet word with one of the more fashionable girls and sent her off on her lunch break with £50 to buy Ruth a dress and a promise to give her a stellar reference when it came to promotion season.

Her only stipulation had been that the dress be able to go with the pair of brown boots she had worn to work.

The result was… not quite what she had been anticipating. Ruth had been expecting something sedate yet classy from Marks and Spencer or perhaps something from Next that would be good for every party she needed to go to for the next five years, but according to Josie her mentee, Oasis had had a sale on.

Hence the choice of dress. It was a very nice dress. It was also not the kind of dress she normally wore. _Good for your cleavage,_ Josie had said. She wasn't wrong. And at least the knee-high boots she was wearing made up for the fact the skirt of the dress didn't quite manage to reach her knees, although Ruth had never understood the predilection for short skirts in December.

"Too late now," she muttered to herself, glancing at her watch and dashing back out into the corridor, her work clothes stuffed into the shopping bag.

She found Harry waiting for her on the Grid, leaning against her desk while he listened to Dimitri and Beth's conversation as they set up for their night of snooping on bankers and terrorists. He looked good. He'd changed into a fresh suit and shirt. His tie was the same shade of dark red as her dress.

Oh God, he was going to think she'd coordinated the dress to match his tie. She was going to properly kill Josie if she found out she'd gone poking around in Harry's tie collection before buying the dress.

"Wow, Ruth." Dimitri looked up from his computer screen as she approached.

Ruth focused on him instead of the way Harry was staring at her. She dumped her bag of clothes on the desk and pretended everything was normal. "Is everything ready to go?"

"Yeah. Tariq's just finishing the thing so you can bug Glass later."

She nodded and turned her attention to the tiny handbag Josie had presented her along with the red dress. How anyone fit anything at all into them, she had no idea. Maybe she could utilise Harry's pockets.

Just then, Harry leaned towards her. "Is that dress new?"

"Um, yes. It is."

"It's very nice."

"Thanks." Ruth jammed her phone into the miniature bag and tried not to think about the fact that Harry's face was so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her neck.

"How'd you manage to get it?"

"I sent Josie out for it."

The expression on Harry's face suggested he had no idea who Josie was.

"You know, the one with the hair. Looks like a supermodel and speaks seven languages." She was absolutely not jealous.

"Ah, yes."

How did she know that he'd know Josie was the one who looked like a model? "Bloody men."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>The Home Office Christmas Party was not, as it turned out, in the Home Office, but rather in one of the larger function rooms at the Palace of Westminster. As a matter of priority, Ruth had scanned the room to find the free bar as soon as they had arrived, and then shared a sheepish look with Harry when she caught him doing precisely the same thing.<p>

"I don't think Glass is here yet," he said. "Wine?"

She nodded and let him guide her over to the large table laden with drinks and guarded by a waiter dressed to the nines in white tie. Harry ordered two glasses of red wine while Ruth surreptitiously watched the guests, looking for anyone she knew and reminding herself of the basic legend she was supposed to be using for the duration of the party.

"Here you are." Harry handed her a glass and then steered her over to the far corner, where they could loiter inconspicuously for a while and wait for their target to make an appearance.

There was a crackle from Ruth's earpiece. _'How's it going, Alphas?'_ Dimitri asked over the comms. _'You in position?'_

"Affirmative," Harry said, leaning in to Ruth to make it look as though he was sharing something with her.

'_Good job. According to CCTV, the target is en route. T minus five minutes, approximately. Confirm.'_

"Confirmed."

The comms went quiet.

"I swear he thinks he's James Bond." Harry took a swill of wine and then, noticing the Home Secretary enter the room with his entourage, had another large mouthful as fortification.

* * *

><p>Truth be told, Harry had mixed feelings about the whole evening. On the one hand, it was nice to be out with Ruth and have the chance to spend some time with her, particularly with Christmas coming up. She'd even seemed to be more receptive to him than usual, which he couldn't deny was nice – despite his best efforts to keep things professional (by 'best', he of course meant 'reluctant and half-hearted'). On the other hand, he didn't especially appreciate the fact they were here on business, at a venue where they had to be on their best behaviour and with Dimitri et al listening in on the comms, clearly loving every second of it.<p>

He also hated the fact that Steven Glass had just arrived – banker, wanker and very tall man extraordinaire – and so they had to start getting down to business. The cocky sod.

Harry knew that Ruth was nervous about planting the bug on the man, and he was weighing up the merits of one more nerve-calming glass of wine versus the potential for things to go disastrously wrong if he misjudged her current level of inebriation. He decided to play it safe and wait until afterwards before they hit the bar with abandon.

"Ruth," he addressed her quietly.

She cocked her head towards him so he knew she was listening.

"I'm going to go outside for a moment and get some air, all right?"

She shuffled next to him, recognising the cue he had given her for putting their plan into action. "Okay."

"You know what to do?"

"Mmm, yes. Get the man to dance." Her tone of voice suggested she thought the challenge was almost impossible.

"Exactly."

Ruth turned her back to the crowd and spoke to his chest. "You really should've brought Beth to do this. She'd be much better."

"What, gold medal in brashness Bailey? I don't think so. Go on. Dance with the man. Just don't forget to save the last dance for me." He didn't know where that last bit had come from. It must've been the wine. Suddenly, a little outdoor sojourn was looking rather appealing.

"What if he won't dance with me?"

"He will."

"But what – "

"Ruth." He cut her off with a hand on her shoulder and a purposeful look on his face. "Don't worry. You look wonderful."

She blushed the same colour as her dress.

"Really. Please… please don't worry. Everything's fine. You won't need to do anything, really. Just smile at him and say something about the party. Then ask him about himself. He's a banker. I bet that's his favourite topic of conversation."

His poor joke didn't bring the smile he was hoping for. "I don't have a huge amount of practice at this."

He knew she wasn't just talking professionally. Harry had a look around the room, saw that no one was looking at them, and risked a sneaky kiss on her cheek. "That will make it all the more endearing."

Ruth looked a little dazed at the sudden proximity. "Really."

Harry squeezed her shoulder. "Yes. I'll be right back."

She nodded and he took his leave, making his way across the busy room and pausing near the door to look back over his shoulder. He saw Ruth heading over to Steven Glass, who was stood near the drinks table. He waited until she was next to him and then turned away to leave the room.

"Control, we've started," he said quietly.

'_Thanks, Alpha One. We have visual. Confirm when completed.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. More bankers and dancing next time :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you once again for all the kind comments. You all brightened up my day :)**

**More sort-of-plotty stuff now… Hope you like!**

* * *

><p>It turned out to be easy when it came down to it. Ruth put down her empty wine glass on the drinks table and surveyed the range of wine and spirits, very aware that Steven Glass was standing next to her, a glass of champagne in each hand and talking to Mike Sherborne, the Home Office minister.<p>

"I always like a free bar, don't you?"

She turned to find Glass standing closer than he had been before and the Rt Hon Mike Sherborne MP making a hasty retreat across the room. "Er, yes, I do."

Steven Glass handed her one of his glasses of champagne. "I'm Steve."

"Emily," she said, remembering her legend for the evening. She raised the glass to him. "Thanks." She knew better than to drink it, of course – just in case – but she mimed taking a sip and then held the glass in front of her, looking up at the very tall man.

He wasn't just tall, either. He was built like… like… an oak tree, she decided, big and strong and sturdy.

"'s nice to meet you."

"And you." He held out his hand and grinned, instantly giving himself away as a man who tried way too hard to be 'just a normal guy' when a more apt description would almost certainly be 'arsehole'.

She took his hand and shook it, fully aware that she looked nervous and hoping that Harry was right – that it would make her seem endearing. She wondered if he was back yet.

'_Going well, Alpha Two,'_ Dimitri said soothingly in her ear. '_Bring him home for us.'_

"Love your dress," Steven Glass told her.

She felt herself blushing. Again. Bloody Josie. "Thank you."

He was staring at her cleavage. "You look great."

"Thanks." Ruth briefly thought about complimenting his choice of tie (or possibly kneeing him in the bollocks for being a blatant lech) but decided the thin strip of sky blue didn't have anything on Harry's red tie and so kept quiet on the matter. "Are you enjoying the party?"

It wasn't the wittiest thing she could have said, but oh well.

It seemed to be good enough. "Yeah, yeah." Steven Glass laughed as though she'd told a hilarious joke. "Like I say – free bar, y'know."

The man was so rich he could've bought several bars all of his very own, but Ruth didn't think it wise to bring up that particular fact in the current circumstances. She nodded. "I know. Good music, too."

'_That's it, Alpha Two.'_

Steven Glass paused as though he had only just noticed there was music playing. "Oh yeah. It is good. Hey, want to dance?"

Every instinct within her was telling her to say no and tell him to get lost, but the bug was still stored in her handbag and they couldn't leave until it had been transferred to Glass. "Yeah, okay."

He turned away briefly to put his glass down on the bar and Ruth took the opportunity to discreetly dip her left hand into her bag and pull out the tiny bug. She clutched it tightly, worried her sweaty palms would cause her to drop it and scupper the whole thing. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry re-enter the room, his tie slightly loosened. She felt herself relax and let Steven Glass take her other hand.

He led her to the centre of the dance floor and banded his other arm around her waist. "Love this song."

"Yeah. Me too." She'd never heard it before in her life.

"Hey, you nervous?" He pulled back slightly and peered down at her.

There was no point in lying. "A little bit." She smiled at him bashfully, letting him think her nerves were due to a personal interest in him. In reality, she was mostly nervous about the fact he was too tall for her to plant the bug on his shirt collar without it being obvious – and she couldn't put it in his jacket pocket in case he took it off later. By prior 'agreement' with Dimitri, the bug was supposed to clip onto the inside of the man's trouser pocket, a thought that did not exactly fill her with a huge amount of festive spirit.

"Don't worry," Steven Glass said. "That's what the bar is for."

It was almost like he was reading her mind. She told herself to think about the promised booze and just get it over with as fast as possible.

* * *

><p>Harry held a fresh glass of wine and watched Ruth with Steven Glass closely. She was talking to him, making him laugh, charming him exactly as he knew she would. <em>Lucky git.<em> It may have been somewhat irrational, but Harry felt his dislike of the other man – taller, younger, richer – grow. Then again, the man was possibly also colluding with terrorists, screwing over his employer and Ruth clearly despised him, so Harry supposed he still came out on top. Not that it was a contest. Of course not.

"Blimey Harry, what's with the gloomy face? It might never happen."

Towers. If ever there was a night he didn't want to see the Home Secretary, this was it. "Home Secretary. And, actually, my name is James this evening."

Towers didn't give any indication that he had heard. "It's good to see you here. Honestly, I thought you were going to tell me that there'd been some awful event just to get out of coming."

"Well, the thought did cross my mind, but then I heard there was a free bar."

"Yes, I know you lot'll do anything for… Christ, that man is tall!"

Harry didn't have to look at him to know that Towers had spotted Ruth with Steven Glass. "Yes, he is."

"Is that, er… what's her name…"

"Emily."

The HS didn't sound fooled, but he went with it. "Emily, with him?"

"Yes."

"Why?" As soon as he'd asked the question, Towers held his hand up. "Actually, don't tell me."

"I wasn't planning to."

Towers started talking about… something. Harry wasn't listening properly. He watched as Ruth smiled hesitantly up at Steven Glass and he beamed back at her. He gritted his teeth as the man tightened his grip on her and continued to shuffle with her around the dance floor. Then he crossed his fingers behind his back as Ruth casually ran her hand down Glass's side until her hand rested at his hip. He looked thrilled. Harry sincerely hoped that the man managed to get himself arrested later and watched the subtle movement of Ruth's hand as she planted the bug.

She caught his eye and lifted her head ever so slightly. It was done.

"Completed, control."

"What?" Towers looked puzzled at the interruption.

"Sorry, Home Secretary. What were you saying?" He tried his best to appear interested, but he could sense Ruth's 'I'm going to kill this man soon' expression from the other side of the room.

The Gods seemed to be smiling on him.

"Oh, it'll keep," Towers said. "Go on. It is Christmas." He nodded towards Ruth and Glass and then disappeared to the bar, where he was swallowed up by a group of people more enamoured than Harry at the presence of the Home Secretary.

Harry wasn't about to protest. He nodded at Towers and then made his exit as fast as he could, picking his way through people on the dance floor until he reached his target. He put his hands on Ruth's hips to halt her movement, for once relishing the chance to be over-familiar – even if it was as part of a legend. "Might I cut in?" he asked Steven Glass, pointedly.

The other man looked at him, then back at Ruth, then at Harry once again. "Oh shit," he said, clearly assuming that they were a couple. "Sorry mate." He backed away, hands held up in a surrender gesture.

However, it seemed he didn't give up that easily. Glass reached into the top pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Ruth, made a 'call me' gesture and winked.

"Just in case, yeah?" he said.

"Yeah," she said, smiling up at him, her body language open and welcoming – a very good act. She rolled her eyes and inclined her head towards Harry, as if to say 'if only it wasn't for him.'

Steven Glass laughed and leaned down as though he was going to kiss her cheek but then ducked out at the last moment. Not as confident as his size and profession might suggest him to be, then. That could be useful if they later needed leverage to break his paid-off-by-terrorists self. Then he was gone, back at the bar and selecting the best wine he could find.

Harry and Ruth both glared after him.

"Good job," Harry said, as he took Ruth's hand for a dance.

"Thanks."

They shuffled in silence for a few moments while the music changed tracks. "Did he tell you anything?" Harry asked to kill the awkwardness.

She shrugged as best she could while dancing. "He wanted me to know that really it's the bankers who run the country and that he's very proud to be part of such a key part of the economy."

"Right."

"I almost punched him."

Harry chuckled. He could imagine her biting her tongue while the smug git was talking, resisting the urge to cut in and deliver her verdict on what she really thought of Steven Glass and his banker pals. "Any word on tonight?"

"He just said it's always busy this time of year – social functions and so on. He said he has a late night tonight but nothing specific."

'_Got that, Alpha Two. Thanks a lot.'_

They both jumped at Dimitri's interjection over the comms system.

"I'd forgotten about him." Harry wondered if the team on the Grid were watching him and Ruth as they danced.

'_Charming. Anyway, the bug is active, so good job. If you could hold off on the free liquor until the target has left the premises, that would be lovely.'_

"I swear this promised alcohol keeps getting further and further away," Ruth muttered.

'_Yeah but just imagine how good it'll be later.'_

"It had better be."

Harry crossed his fingers and hoped that Steven Glass would clear off sharpish.

* * *

><p><strong>One more chapter to go, I think… :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you again for the lovely comments. You lot make checking my emails much more fun than normal ;)**

* * *

><p>It was another hour before Steven Glass took his leave of the Home Office Christmas Party. Ruth and Harry had been reluctantly mingling with some of the other guests, both of them attempting to make a glass of wine last as long as possible and casting frequent longing glances at the bar.<p>

Oddly, Ruth had found herself having fun once the business portion of the evening had been done away with. Harry had hardly moved away from her, clearly intent on keeping up appearances after he'd cut in on her and Glass on the dance floor. She wasn't complaining, although she thought she probably shouldn't be enjoying it quite so much.

At least, she thought, genuinely having a good time would make the whole thing look more authentic. Hopefully.

At any rate, she was glad to see the back of Steven Glass. She watched as he shook the Home Secretary's hand – Towers clearly having no idea who the man was – and then said goodbye to his entry pass: Mike Sherborne. Just before he reached the door, he turned back and appeared to be looking for someone in the crowd.

His eyes found her and he waved. Ruth waved back, aware of Harry glowering beside her. Clearly noticing Harry looking daggers in his direction, Steven Glass left in a hurry.

* * *

><p>"You know, I've never really liked gin," Ruth remarked halfway through her second G&amp;T.<p>

Harry regarded his own glass suspiciously. "Neither have I, but this is going down quite well."

"Well, it is Christmas."

"That's true."

"And we're sort of off-duty now."

"Also true."

"I hope everything's going okay back at the Grid."

"I'm sure it is." Harry sounded as though he really couldn't care less.

'_It is,'_ Dimitri cut in over the comms.

"Eavesdropper." Ruth tried to sound indignant but she didn't think she quite pulled it off.

'_Sorry. Risk of the job.'_

"If we go AWOL, is that going to scupper you at all?" The way Harry spoke, it sounded as though Dimitri didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter.

'_I dunno. Do we have your permission to liaise with Special Branch in the event of needing to arrest the cock?'_

"Yes."

'_Then feel free to go offline.'_

"Excellent." Harry didn't even bother signing off, he just discreetly pulled out his earpiece and put it in his pocket.

Ruth followed suit, slipping hers into the tiny, pointless handbag that went with her dress. Then, just because she could, she drank some more gin. "I hope this doesn't translate into a hangover tomorrow."

"If it does, we'll get the others to take the lead. We can call it part of their professional development training."

"Maybe I'll have a chat to my young mentees and let them do all the talking."

"Good idea."

"I'm starting to get a good insight into what the upper echelons of the service do with their time."

"Worrying, isn't it?" Harry reached over and pushed Ruth's glass back up to her face. "Drink that. It'll help."

She nodded, sinking the rest of her drink and then watching as Harry did the same, the slice of lemon in his glass sliding out to hit him on the nose. "Classy."

"This is why politicians tend to stop inviting me to their parties after a while."

"I'm surprised Towers hasn't learnt yet." Even as she said it, Ruth was suddenly very aware of the Home Secretary watching them from a few metres away. He was chatting to some of his staff, seemingly intent on the conversation, but his eyes kept flicking to Harry and Ruth's little table. He didn't look very approving of their small collection of empty glasses.

Harry noticed him, too. "I think he might just have realised." The man was probably worried about the security of his state secrets, what with Harry's previous form for giving them up.

"Oops."

He leaned in and nudged her shoulder. "Shall we go and continue this somewhere we're less likely to be judged harshly for consuming all the alcohol?"

She should probably say no, but, well… it was Christmas. And it sounded fun. "I think so. Where did you have in mind?"

-0-

"This was a very good idea."

"I thought so." Harry eased himself down onto the floor, shuffling awkwardly as he leant back against his sofa.

Ruth pushed a plate towards him and then they both sat surveying the collection of food that was spread over the coffee table. She wasn't entirely sure how they had ended up on Harry's living room floor with a Chinese takeaway and glasses of wine, but she was certainly having fun. She drank some wine and then tucked into her plate of food.

"Sorry I don't have any gin," Harry said around a mouthful of spring roll, his tone teasing.

"It's probably just as well. And this wine is lovely."

He smiled. "I've been saving it for a special occasion."

She turned with the intention of berating him for opening his nice wine just for this – an impromptu late night meal served on the coffee table – but the softness of his gaze made her pause. This _was_ a special occasion. Him and her, sharing a meal in the dim light of his living room, free from obligation for a short space of time. She returned his smile.

"At the risk of sounding like an arse," he went on, breaking the nice moment in their tried and tested fashion, "I have to ask. Are you drunk?"

It was a valid question. "At the risk of sounding like an alcoholic, no I'm not. Happy, maybe, but not because I'm drunk. Are you?"

"No. Enjoying myself, yes. But as you say, that's nothing to do with the booze."

She held his gaze and felt something shift in the air. "I thought it went well tonight." It turned out that even on special occasions, she still couldn't let go enough just to see what might happen if she let it.

Harry didn't seem surprised by the conversation shift. "Yes, it did. Our friend Mr Glass was very taken with you."

"I highly doubt it."

"Did you not see his face?"

"Hmm, not really. His face was approximately five metres above mine, of course. It made looking at him a bit awkward."

"Ha, true. Well, trust me. The man was smitten."

If she didn't know any better, she'd say that Harry sounded slightly jealous. She felt the need to reassure him, even though he blatantly knew there was nothing to be reassured about. Ruth covered his hand with hers and squeezed lightly, quickly, before pulling away again and going back to her food, knowing Harry would understand her meaning.

They continued to eat in silence, both of them aware of a warm glow that had absolutely nothing to do with the food or alcohol.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, they were both full and relaxed – although ever so slightly uncomfortable on the floor.<p>

"I always forget I'm getting on a bit," Harry remarked as his knee cracked while he was stacking the plates. "Getting down's okay, but getting back up again can be a challenge."

Ruth stood relatively easily – a benefit of her comparative youth, she supposed – and held out a hand to pull Harry up. He took it and let her tug him to his feet, the detritus of their meal abandoned on the table.

"I've just remembered something," he said softly, his eyes liquid in the dim light.

"What's that?"

"We never had that dance."

"We danced earlier." Maybe he was losing his memory as well as his ability to get up from the floor… That would be unfortunate. Dancing with him at the party earlier, making sarcastic comments about the guests and keeping up the pretence of being a couple for the benefit of Steven Glass, was a memory she was sure she'd have with her until she was old and grey.

He smiled his little enigmatic smile and stepped closer to her, his hand still lightly encasing hers. "But that wasn't the last dance, was it? I told you to save the last dance for me."

She wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "That's true, you did."

"So, right now, we need to have that dance."

"Do you have music?"

Harry walked over to his stereo and pressed a few buttons before something classical and lilting filled the air. "Not strictly dancing music, but…"

"It's perfect." She stepped over to him and automatically slipped her hand back into his. When his arm found its way around her waist, she laid her other hand on his shoulder, feeling the play of muscle beneath his shirt and enjoying the warmth of him. "You're such a nice height."

He smiled and, unlike with Steven Glass, she didn't have to crane her neck to see it. "Thank you," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "And do thank Josie for choosing that dress, won't you?"

"You like her fashion sense?"

"I like that dress on you."

Ruth may not have been drunk, but even the simplest of compliments from Harry could still make her feel lightheaded. "Thanks."

He ran his hand over the back of her dress, the fabric rippling slightly under his palm. "Thank you for coming with me tonight."

She bit down the urge to say that she had just been doing her job; she knew that wasn't what he meant. "That's okay. But are we just going to spend the entire night thanking each other for things?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Harry seemed to take it seriously. "Well, what would you rather do?" He was looking at her intently.

None of the things she could think of sounded adequate – that, or they went miles past adequate and into 'definitely too brazen' territory.

"Ruth? Any thoughts?"

"I don't know." She gripped his hand a little tighter. "Let's just keep dancing."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks, as always, for reading my ramblings :)<strong>

**Well, once again this was supposed to be the last chapter, but now it's not. Or, at least, it might not be. One more to go, if you like. Essentially, it's public vote time – declare this the end or have another chapter of (probably) mostly fluff? I'm away for a few days now (without proper internet access, boo), but should be able to get the last bit done pretty soon if you'd like it. Let me know! Cheers, m'dears ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, there seemed to be pretty much universal agreement that there should be another chapter, so… here it is. Thanks for all your kind comments. Sorry this took a while – going away and then getting back into work (groan) kind of got in the way. On the bright side, I now have a week's worth of your lovely fic to catch up on (hurrah!). I sense a weekend reading marathon coming on… Anyway. Here's the last chapter – hope you like it!**

* * *

><p>"Steven Glass is in custody," Dimitri announced at a team meeting two days later – the last working day before Christmas. "He's been charged under the Terrorism Act for aiding and abetting a known terrorist organisation, as well as under the relevant Acts of Parliament for bribery, corruption and generally being a pervy git. That last one was at your suggestion, Harry."<p>

Harry shot his younger officer a glare as he felt Ruth's questioning gaze on him from across the table. He had casually suggested to Dimitri earlier, once it had become clear they'd be able to charge Mr Glass, that if he was able to also secure a charge for some sort of lechery or perversion on top of the terrorism offences, that would be quite nice (he'd noticed that Glass was suffering from a case of wandering hands while he was dancing with Ruth the other night) – but he'd been joking. Mostly. He was fairly sure Dimitri was joking, too, but having the issue mentioned in the team meeting – in any capacity – was not what he'd had in mind.

"How many others were arrested?" he asked in a bid to deflect attention from himself.

Beth looked down at her papers. "Four so far. We're waiting for the Border Agency to get back to us about two more men linked with the same organisation. We think they've tried to flee and it's somewhat unclear whether they've managed to make it across to Calais or whether they're stuck in a shipping container on this side of the Channel. Either way, we've got the French authorities on the lookout, too, so with any luck they'll be back here sometime soon to enjoy a stay in Her Majesty's finest correctional facilities."

"Good."

"If we could just run over the details of the custody charges for Steven Glass…" Dimitri clicked a button to change the image shown on the projector screen and launched into a soliloquy that wasn't entirely necessary.

Not entirely necessary – but Harry wasn't about to dissuade him from talking at that point in time. He was enjoying the chance to sit back, let someone else do the talking for a while and let his mind wander back to the wonderful events of two nights before.

On the other side of the table, Ruth was fiddling with her pen and watching Dimitri as he spoke. Obviously sensing Harry's gaze on her, she looked up and sent him a look that clearly said _behave._ Then one side of her mouth quirked up and she held his gaze just a fraction longer than was needed, letting him know that she was thinking about exactly the same thing.

_Two nights earlier…_

_As time progressed, Harry became increasingly aware that he and Ruth were no longer really dancing. It was more like swaying, he supposed – and that was a charitable description. Not that it mattered. Happily, he could feel her body brushing against his with every little movement and her thumb was stroking warmly over his bicep, he was fairly certain unconsciously. No, he thought, it might not be dancing, but it was certainly very welcome…_

"Harry?"

Beth's question called him back to the present and he visibly started. "What?"

She was clearly trying (and failing) to hide her amusement as she repeated her query: "I asked if you think we should recommend bail for Steven Glass?"

He tried to style it out, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Oh. No. I don't."

"His defence lawyer is asking for a little Christmas charity and the Met have asked us for advice on the matter."

"I've already donated to Great Ormond Street this year. I think they need the Christmas charity a little bit more than Mr Glass, yes?" He nodded to emphasise his point.

Beth was nodding along with him. "Yes. Just wanted to check." Then she said, very quietly and under her breath, "Check that you were listening."

"I heard that."

* * *

><p>After the meeting, Harry went straight back to his office, aware that Ruth was following him. He left the door open for her and headed for his decanter – after all, he reasoned, it was Christmas. Almost. He was allowed a(nother) drink.<p>

He heard Ruth shut the door behind her and then walk over to his desk. He poured another glass for her.

"That's very sweet you know," she said, as though carrying on a conversation already halfway through.

He turned and handed her the glass. "What is?"

"You. Donating to the children's hospital for Christmas."

He felt absurdly pleased that she was pleased about his small charitable act. "It seemed like a good thing to do," he said, drinking from his own glass and then allowing himself a few moments just to watch her as she took a tiny sip of whiskey, shifting self-consciously on the spot.

She nodded. "It is. I donated to one of the homeless charities. And the local refuge because, well, the kids at this time of year… you know."

He smiled at her, feeling a new sort of kinship starting to grow between them and glad that they seemed to have at least some of the same instincts away from the job as they did on the job. He was uncertain he'd ever be able to match Ruth's level of empathy – her heart had to be the size of the city – but he was part of the way there, at any rate.

He was about to say something more to her, but she beat him to it, abruptly changing the subject and speaking directly to her whiskey glass.

"Um, I had fun the other night." She risked a glance up at him. "Not so much the first bit, but afterwards, that was good. At your house."

Yes, he thought that bit had been good, too.

_Gradually, over the course of several tracks of music, their pretence at dancing had ground to a halt, but they hadn't moved away from each other. Instead they stood close together, effectively hugging in the middle of his living room while a Chopin piano sonata echoed around them._

_Harry wasn't too proud to admit to himself that he was a big fan of a decent cuddle and that it had been a long, long time since he'd had one quite this good. As the music changed again, he tightened his arms around Ruth to kill any instinct there may have been to pull away in the momentary silence. She nestled into him and pressed her face into his chest. Warm and soft. _

_Bloody hell…_

"Yes, that was good," he agreed with her quietly. What had been especially good had been what came afterwards; the hugging that had led to his lips pressing into her hair quite by accident – at first -, her face turning upwards to look at him, his head dropping to hers before he could even think, her reaching up to pull his lips to hers…

No, it hadn't been a bad evening by any standards, even though they hadn't got much beyond lazy kissing, both of them too tired to do justice to anything more.

Best of all had been the end of the night, when he had seen her into a taxi so she could go home and they could both try to get a few hours' sleep before they had to be up again and back to work.

"_We'll have to continue this over Christmas," he said casually as he handed the taxi driver a wad of cash, as though he didn't have his heart riding on her answer._

"_Yes, we will," Ruth said. "I'll look forward to it."_

_Harry stood down his emergency defence barriers and positively beamed at her. "So will I."_

"_You can't pay for the taxi." Apparently sudden shifts in conversation were not just an avoidance tactic._

_He hushed her with one finger placed over her lips. "Yes, I can."_

_She looked like she was going to argue for a moment, but whatever protest she had been forming died on her lips and she nodded, dislodging his finger. "Okay. Thank you."_

That had been the last thing they'd said to each other before she got into the taxi and shut the door, leaving the promise of more to come at Christmas in the air.

The sound of Ruth putting her glass down on his desk reminded Harry that they were still in his office and not standing outside his house in the middle of the night. Which was a shame, in a way. Saying goodbye to her that night had quite possibly been the most romantic moment of his life so far. The only thing currently preventing him from declaring himself able to die happy was the knowledge that that had been just the start of… whatever it turned out to be.

"I was thinking," Ruth went on, "it's after five."

Harry looked at his watch. "It is."

"We could… well… go."

It didn't require any thought at all. "The others can finish up the mess with Glass."

"Part of their professional development training," Ruth said, referring back to their conniving plan two days ago to disguise any pesky post-party hangovers by instituting a team-led 'training' session on the Grid.

"Exactly." Harry plonked his empty glass next to Ruth's and then walked around his desk, pulling his jacket on as he did. He led her out of the room with one hand on her back and wondered if they'd be able to escape without anyone noticing.

Not so lucky. "Are you off?" Dimitri asked, sitting at his desk surrounded by paper, a phone held against his shoulder.

"Yes, not a problem, is it?" Harry used his best 'don't disagree with me unless you want to die' voice.

Luckily, Dimitri learned fast – and had something of a soft heart. "No, not at all." He clearly knew what was going on. "Assume if you hear nothing that everything has gone to plan with Steven Glass and his friends."

"We will."

"I fully expect New Year off after this."

"Noted."

"Have a nice Christmas."

"We will."

"And Ruth?"

"Yes?" She turned to Dimitri, one arm in and one arm out of her coat.

"If he gets to be too much, just think about the gin."

* * *

><p><strong>And there we shall leave it. Thanks for reading and I hope you all had a lovely Christmas :)<strong>


End file.
